


Busted

by Kestrealbird



Series: DC Verse [2]
Category: DCU (Comics), Justice League - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce is a good dad, Dick and Wally get in over their heads, Fluff, Gen, Genderfluid! Barry, Humor, Some feels, Uncle Barry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-23 02:33:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19141807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kestrealbird/pseuds/Kestrealbird
Summary: “Don’t worry,” Dick whispers, far more confident then he should be. “It’s just Riddler. We can handle this.”Wally repeats, “it’s a stupid idea,” but silently follows him across the rafters anyway. It’s part of the bro-code, you see, and if Dick isn’t going to listen to him then the least Wally can do is go down in the gutters with him.





	Busted

**Author's Note:**

> I asked my followers on tumblr which fic they wanted first and they voted for more Uncle Barry so here it is!

It’s Dick’s idea to go patrolling without Batman or Flash to keep an eye on them. “Just for a little while,” he’d said, “I doubt anything will happen anyway.” And Wally, good friend that he was, had readily agreed, adrenaline already picking up at the idea.

So they’d snuck out of Bruce’s manor, where Wally had been staying for a sleepover, and taken to the streets, beating up a few low-tier thugs that thought stealing purses was an acceptable waste of everyone’s time. They even grab a couple of free burgers from someone who recognizes Robin, and take a few pics with the guy in return.

Everything is going pretty well, by Gotham’s standards, and they haven't run into, like, Poison Ivy or anything, which is always a plus. She gives Wally the creeps, reminding him why he much prefers the Rogues down in Central.

And then they find an abandoned warehouse, because of course they do, and neither of them can just. Leave it there without checking it out. So they climb in through one of the windows, sticking close to the shadows, hidden behind some boxes, and they see Riddler looking over some sort of blue-print on a very shabby looking table.

“Looks like he had a budget cut.”

“Shh, don't let him hear you!”

Wally rolls his eyes, dramatically, a habit he’s no doubt picked up from Uncle Hal, and lowers his voice. “Okay so, like, do you want to be the one who calls Batman or?”

“Pft,” Dick says, “please. Like we need to tell him about this. We can just do it ourselves.”

That sounds like a phenomenally bad idea. The kind that’ll leave them with their pants around their ankles, and an embarrassing story for the ages. Wally shakes his head, “no,” immediately.

“And why not?” Dick rolls his eyes, impatient.

“Because,” Wally hisses, “it’s a stupid idea! He’s, like, super famous! You don’t become a famous criminal in _Gotham_ for nothing.”

Which isn’t to say the the Rogues aren’t dangerous, or anything, because they are! Totally! It’s just, well, Gotham’s criminals tend to be...eccentric and a little batshit nuts, if he’s being honest.

“Don’t worry,” Dick whispers, far more confident then he should be. “It’s just Riddler. We can handle this.”

Wally repeats, “it’s a _stupid_ idea,” but silently follows him across the rafters anyway. It’s part of the bro-code, you see, and if Dick isn’t going to listen to him then the least Wally can do is go down in the gutters with him. Besides, he reassures himself, Dick knows Gotham’s criminals better than Wally does, so if he says they can handle it then it must be true, right? Right.

They absolutely _cannot_ handle it, but they’re also ten years old and determined to prove themselves capable, trying to grow up as fast as possible so they can be as cool as the League, and show Batman and Flash that they don’t need to be looked after anymore.

Riddler notices them the moment they jump from one rafter to the next, and it all goes downhill from there.

\---

“We are _so_ busted when they find out about this,” Wally moans for the fifth time in the past few minutes.

Dick really wants to argue with him - wants to say that, no, they won’t, but he and Wally have been stuck here for the better part of an hour, hanging upside down, and no amount of wriggling is helping either of them escape the heavy chain keeping them back-to-back.

“Stop complaining,” Dick huffs, “at least _you_ can plead the fifth.” Which is true, sort of, because it _was_ Dick’s idea and Wally _had_ said that it was a stupid one, but they’re also best friends and it’s kind of what best friends do; following each other into danger.

He hopes it’s his Dad that finds them first. Uncle Barry is, surprisingly, a lot more terrifying to think about.

“Yeah, well, at least _you’ll_ still get to eat McDonalds,” Wally snaps. “ _I’m_ probably going to get grounded. _Again_.”

“That’s _your_ fault,” Dick says. “You’re always doing stupid shit.”

“I’m telling Alfred you swore.”

“Don’t you _dare_!”

Alfred will kill him if he finds out. Dad won't, but Dad’s Disappointed Stare™ is guilt-trippy enough that Dick caves immediately upon seeing it.

He turns his head as best as he can, trying to bite his friends ear, but only succeeds in giving himself a neck-ache.

This whole situation isn’t even life-threatening so much as it is _humiliating_. There’s not even pointy objects underneath them; just open cans of paint. Riddler has a sick sense of humour. Wally can’t even vibrate his way through the chains (“not yet,” he’d sniffed earlier, as if that made it better) because he’s still learning how to avoid lampposts and his own shoelaces.

Resigned, Dick amuses himself by singing “100 green bottles sitting on a wall” and gets louder the more Wally groans about it.

He gets to number 62 when he feels his friend tense behind him, grimacing as he mutters, “uh oh,” and then Dick starts praying to whatever god he can think of that when the chain spins him around, he’ll see a reporter or Gordon.

Uncle Barry is squatting in front of them, looking up with his head tilted to one side, completely silent. Dick swallows. “So,” he tries cheerfully, “how much trouble are we in?”

“Hm.”

Oh. A lot then.

The next thing he registers is picking himself up from the floor, covered in pink and yellow paint, grimacing as it slips down his back and starts drying in his hair. Of course Riddler would choose the ultra-quick dry kind. Of course he would.

“What,” Barry hisses, “were you _thinking_?”

Dick tries to say, “we were just going on patrol,” but he gets cut off after the first two words, Barry whirling towards him with his hackles raised. “Your father was worried sick about you!”

Dick wilts under the comment, looking at the ground while guilt lays heavy in his gut. “And _you_ -” Barry turns to Wally, who's trying very hard to melt through the floor - “ _you’re_ still learning how to speed around corners! You’re damn _lucky_ it was only Riddler you saw tonight.”

He’s right. Dick gulps, heavily, and tries not to think about how badly things would’ve turned out if he’d run into someone like Black Mask or Scarecrow. Riddler likes to play games with people, sure, but he only gives the really dangerous ones to Batman, because he knows that Batman can handle it and they both, secretly, privately, enjoy the challenge.

Riddler has morals, which is _more_ then what can be said for most of Gotham’s nightlife, and he refuses to hurt children. The only reason they ended up a little bit bruised, is because they’re still _Robin_ and _Kid Flash_ and Riddler might have morals but he isn’t an _idiot_. Mostly.

“How did you -” Wally starts to ask.

“ _Because_ ,” Barry says sharply, “ _he’s_ the one who told us where you were.”

“‘Us’?” Dick’s voice is quiet, tentative.

Barry lifts his visor to pinch the bridge of his nose with gloved fingers, eyes clenched shut. “Yes. _Us_. Bruce should be outside soon.” There’s a screech of tires outside, and the sound of a grappling hook being fired. The sounds echo in such empty silence. “Or now,” Barry mutters, flipping his visor down again.

He does it more for show then anything. Barry doesn’t particularly _care_ about keeping his identity a secret, but Bruce doesn’t share the same feelings, so Barry keeps the helmet on to appease him while in Gotham. That’s not to say he goes around _telling_ people who he is, god no, but he also won’t panic if anyone happens to figure it out for themselves.

Dick’s father flies in through the upper window, landing heavily in front of him, looking harried.

“Are you alright?” He blurts out before Dick can open his mouth. “Are you hurt? Why are you covered in paint? You didn’t get into any fights before you found Riddler did you?”

Dick says, “I’m alright,” and sees the relief that washes over his Dad’s shoulders and face.

They can’t see it, but they can all _feel_ the look that Barry levels in Dad’s direction from behind his visor.

Dad’s hands hover between himself and Dick, halfway there to touching him, but the look from Barry has him changing tact, and he reluctantly lowers them back to his sides.

“Hoooow dare you go sneaking around on your own, young man, do you have any _idea_ what could have happened to you?” Dad, bless him, tries to sound stern, but he’s never been that great with the whole “strict parenting” thing, so it’s more than obvious that all he really wants to do is bring Dick in for a tight hug and never let go.

Uncle Barry taps his foot, so Dick says, “I’m sorry,” and Dad lets out a breath.

“Just...don’t do it again. Okay?”

His voice is softer, now, more like the Dad that Dick is familiar with. “Okay,” he repeats, lips tugging into a small smile.

Bruce brings him into a hug with one arm, standing tall and proud, voice switching so he’s speaking as Batman instead. “I’ll take him home,” he tells Barry, then gestures to Wally. “I can -”

“No,” Barry interrupts, before he can even _think_ of finishing the sentence. “I can handle this one.”

“Alright.”

Dick spares Wally one last glance over his shoulder, as Bruce lifts him onto his hip, and offers what he hopes is a reassuring look.

Wally watches them leave, waving, then scuffs his toe into the dirt. “So,” he says, “do I still get McDonalds?”

“No.”

“Yeah. Figured as much.”

Wally understands, really, he does. Unty Barry was worried, and they have a lot on their plate as is without Wally getting himself into trouble. He only got his powers a few months ago, so he’s still figuring all that stuff out, too, and he definitely shouldn’t have done this tonight. So he gets it.

Somehow, it still feels like he’d failed - like he’s disappointed them.

Unty Barry takes a breath, squatting down in front of him. “I’m sorry,” they say quietly, “for snapping at you like that.”

“‘S alright,” Wally says, shrugging. “You were worried about me.”

“Yes,” Barry agrees, “I was. But I shouldn’t’ve been that harsh about it. You’re just excited to test what you can do, now that you have the Speedforce.” Wally can’t see it, but he knows that Unty is smiling. “Just like I did.”

Wally is used to adults who never apologize for raising their voice too loudly at him - used to adults that constantly refuse to admit when they stepped too far too soon, so it’s still a little overwhelming that Barry is the opposite.

“ _You_ did stuff like this too?”

Unty nods, a little sheepish. “Hal wasn’t always there to be my impulse control.”

“Are there embarrassing stories?”

“Lots of them.”

Wally thinks about that, tries imagining it. Unty Barry has always just - well. They’ve always been so damn _cool_ , and _awesome_ and - and Wally can't ever imagine them _needing_ to learn anything, let alone think about _Uncle Hal_ , of all people, having to hold them back from doing something stupid.

“...I did tell him it was a bad idea,” Wally admits, whispering like it’s a huge FBI level secret.

Barry tilts their head, chuckling. “Did you now?”

Wally nods. “Yeah. But, you know, bro-code and all.”

Barry mutters something that sounds suspiciously like they’re blaming Uncle Hal for this, though Wally can’t imagine why, and they’re standing up again, dusting off their knees and offering a hand for him to hold.

“You’re still grounded,” they tell him lightly and Wally groans, despite himself.

“Can I at least get gamer rights?”

“We’ll see.”

“....Dick gets gamer rights.”

“Dick isn’t currently staying under my roof.”

“Worth a shot.”

Running hand-in-hand with his Unty, Wally thinks it’s almost worth all the hovering Aunt Iris does when she finds out. Almost.

**Author's Note:**

> Dick and Wally are around 10 here but if you've read my other fic "What Family Does" you'll know that they've been friend since Dick first became Robin when they were 8. 
> 
> Okay so my biggest HC for Barry is that he's genderfluid in the sense that he just doesn't care about gendered anything. He wears what he wants, when he wants, and answers to all pronouns. This is why Dick uses masculine pronouns for him but Wally uses gender neutral terms. "Unty" is literally just a mashup of "Uncle" and "Aunty"


End file.
